


Winter Dream

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Playing in the Snow, Post Game, Winter Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 23:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17313908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Laslow's laughter is beautiful, like snowflakes kissing over his lips.





	Winter Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This was commissioned for me by a deer friend who wanted to give it as a gift to @smolnsweet on twitter (sworn-2-secrecy on tumblr!)
> 
> This is literally such a sweet fanfic and I loved writing it, so please enjoy some much needed Xanlow! It's named and inspired by the song Winter Dreams by Kelly Clarkson. :)

__Drawing hearts on the foggy glass  
New love chase away my past  
Nothing but the open road  
Saddle up  
Here we go...  
1,2,3  
  
First winter here in your arms  
Flames rising as well fall like stars  
Making angels in the snow  
Warm, fuzzies, frozen toes...  
Is this a dream?  
  
Don't Wake me up  
If this is love  
Please let me be  
Swept completely off my feet

 

“This is humiliating.” Laslow’s voice is muted from beneath his hands because he’s blowing against his fingers for warmth. Even more muted by the fact that he’s seated in front of Xander on this horse, and clearly mumbling to himself. Still, Xander doesn’t miss it. He can only imagine Laslow’s embarrassment. He certainly did force his retainer to sit up front on Bucephalus instead of walking alongside them. 

 

Xander did that with Laslow’s best interests at heart. With a half a day’s march back to Krakenburg, it was no problem for Laslow to walk alongside and even lead Xander’s horse when the snow was mild. It was coming down in gentle flakes and there was no wind at all, so it felt pleasant and pretty. Two hours later and there’s snow all over the ground, already piled high, and the wind is biting and blowing it in drifts. Xander’s horse is hardly managing, and Laslow was falling behind. 

 

Not to mention shivering. “You should be thanking me for pulling you out of the cold,” Xander says in response. Not that he is being asked. 

 

“And into your lap!” Laslow’s voice raises in pitch at the end, but he reels himself in by the time he turns to peer up at Xander over his shoulder. Laslow’s eyes have always been striking. Dark, deep, they often look brown but when the light strikes them just right they flash a hint of lavender. “Can you imagine if someone were to see me like this? They would think--” 

 

“What would they think, Laslow?” 

 

The tips of his ears were already pink, but they get darker and Xander smiles to himself knowing that Laslow can’t possibly answer that question and maintain a shred of dignity. Is he cruel? Occasionally teasing Laslow—And Peri!—May be the only way to put up with how refined and professional his image is meant to be. A king has to hold himself to a certain level of maturity, after all. Thank goodness they’re good sports on the days that his sense of humor breaks free.

 

“Milord, I’m meant to take care of you on these missions. I hate to think that I might be more of a hindrance than a help.” 

 

"Not at all. You're keeping me quite warm, as well, Laslow." Xander looks out at the sky above them. It's only growing darker and darker, and Bucephalus is slowing down with every step in the dense snow. "Though I think we would be smart men to find shelter for the storm. I don't think we'll make it back home as planned." 

 

With the storm picking up like this, Xander is glad that he has so many layers on. He has a heavy, fur-lined coat that keeps him toasty, and that warms even his neck with its hood. Laslow often complains of the heat in his gambeson for the summer, but in the cold like this, it is a necessity. He also has a cloak wrapped around his shoulders, but the hood isn't up. Every time the wind so much as threatens to blow it falls down anyway. He reaches up and shields his eyes from the snow with one hand while he looks out over the horizon. "Milord," he says to Xander, "I think I see a farmhouse just there in the distance. Perhaps they'll be willing to shelter us?" 

 

Willing or not, Xander imagines they will. The alternative is denying their king shelter, something not many in Nohr would brag about if only because they still fear the royal family. But there is nothing left to fear now that the forgotten dragon has been destroyed. Peace is slowly but surely making its way back to Nohr. 

 

When they get closer to the barn and house Laslow squirms off of the horse and nearly falls on his way down. He’s among the most graceful men that Xander has ever met, so it’s always amusing to see him stumble. He waves his arms in a circle a few times before his grip lands on the horse’s mane and he huffs. 

 

Xander has seen him dancing several times. He’s quite talented at dancing; he’s far less talented at finding places where no one will see him. Regardless Laslow meanders his way to the door and knocks until it opens, and a yellow light pours out the door into the gloomy air. They converse for a few minutes… and then Laslow turns to make his way back to Xander. A man slips out of the cottage, and then a woman, and they both make their way to the barn with bundles of supplies in their arms. 

 

"They haven't any spare rooms, Milord," Laslow says. He reaches for the reins of the horse just where they meet the bit and pulls to guide him towards the barn. "They have a wood-burning stove in their barn and plenty of blankets. Considering it's all they have to offer, I commend them for offering us their very best! It will be a warm place to stay for us all, won't it Bu?" 

 

Laslow finishes his sentence talking to the horse and Xander isn't the least bit surprised. He always acts like he cares more about that horse's feelings than Xander's. It's a game he plays and it's an amusing one, to say the least. 

 

Laslow chose not to mention that Xander was the king. Only claiming he was a general was enough, but there’s a look of recognition in their eyes when Xander greets them and offers money and thanks. The inside of the barn is remarkably clean. There are a few cows off to one corner tucked in their pen and cuddling to keep warm. There’s an empty pen where they can let Bucephalus sleep, and Laslow goes to work on getting the stove warm right away. There’s plenty of hay and blankets here--they’ll sleep more comfortably than they did last night on the ground, that’s for certain! 

 

The fire is barely started when Xander stands up and wanders to the door of the barn. Laslow looks back over his shoulder to see what he’s up to, and Xander catches a glimpse of it as he pushes open the door to check on the snow. “It’s coming down rather hard,” Xander says.

 

“Best we stay in here where it’s warm, for the night,” Laslow says. 

 

While Laslow was working on the fire, Xander removed his armor. Mostly because it’s not comfortable to sleep in and he doesn’t feel the need to. He doesn’t feel threatened by this family at all. No, what he decides is to wear his clothes and his coat and gloves and take a walk in the snow. “I’ll just be out here,” he says. Laslow starts to ask him something but Xander steps into the snowflakes. 

 

It’s already piled up to his shins. It’s cold, of course, but Xander has always loved the snow. It reminds him of days spent playing in the snow with Elise and Corrin, and it reminds him of drinking warm, mulled wine with Leo and Camilla. Not to mention its beauty. Laslow fumbles out the door behind him, pulling his cloak back over his shoulders, and he reaches for Xander’s arm.

 

“Milord, where are you going?” He asks. Xander shakes his head no. He’s not going anywhere! But he does bend down and pick up a small pile of snow. Laslow looks at it, watches while Xander slowly, deliberately forms it into a ball. Then he looks back up at Xander’s eyes… and right back down again. “Please don’t throw that at me.” 

 

“Then I suggest you run.” 

 

"Wh--" He doesn't run, and Xander gently lobs the snowball right in his face. As the snow dribbles down his face, Laslow stands still, seemingly petrified by the cold. Or perhaps his own shock? "You threw a snowball at me," he says eventually. 

 

“Yes, I did. I have half a mind to throw another.” 

 

“You fribble cad. You wouldn’t dare!” 

 

“That’s no way to speak to your king, Laslow.” Xander hums. He bends down to pick up another pile of snow and the moment he does he hears the crunch of Laslow  _ sprinting _ to escape. Once upon a time, he told this man that if he ever tried to escape he would hunt him down and find him. This is all fun and games, but the thrill of the hunt is addictive. 

 

Thankfully it isn’t too complex. They’re in an open field. There are a limited number of barrels or trees to hide behind. Then also just one wheelbarrow piled obscenely high with hay… tall enough to hide a man, and with a trail of footprints leading to it. Xander makes his way over there, humming casually as he does. “If you show yourself now I’ll be certain your downfall is merciful.”

 

Laslow doesn’t make a peep, so Xander continues to walk around the wheelbarrow, prepared to push the snow directly into his face if he must. There’s no one there. “What,” He whispers under his breath, and as he does the pile of snow from atop all that hay collapses over him in a heap. 

 

Laslow’s laughter is more of a triumphant cackle. Xander sputters and tilts his head up to see that  _ somehow _ Laslow found the energy to climb atop the hay while Xander was walking around it. “Oh! You should see your face. Are you surprised? The first retainer to his majesty the king should  _ always _ be nimble and cautious. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

 

“Well played. Get down here, then, before you fall and hurt yourself.” 

 

Laslow raises his brow up. “Oh? So you can throw another snowball at me, milord? I think not. I’ll stay here for the night and keep watch. What do you think of that?” 

 

“Don’t be silly. You’ll freeze to death,” Xander reaches out for Laslow’s hand, but Laslow pulls it back cheekily. Xander takes his wrist a moment later and just  _ pulls _ . 

 

He's not sure what he anticipated. Perhaps that Laslow would gracefully slide forward into his arms, that he would ever-so-gently set him on his feet. Instead, Laslow falls faster than expected, yelps ungracefully, and lands hard on top of Xander in a pile of limbs in the snow. 

 

In the very least, Xander managed to break his fall. And Laslow, the poor thing, he can't stop laughing. He pushes himself up off of Xander and then rolls onto his back dramatically to fall into his own pile of snow. He's laughing himself silly, Xander can hear tears threatening to well in his eyes. "Are you-- are you alright?" Laslow asks through fits of giggles. "I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" 

 

Xander closes his eyes. With snow piled up all around him, he almost feels like he could melt into the earth. It’s relaxing, in a way. “I’m fine,” He says. He’s certainly not hurt. Laslow continues to laugh, and it does put a chuckle in Xander’s voice too. Not because the fall was all that funny… but because Laslow clearly can’t contain his own giggles. Xander, however, is otherwise preoccupied with reaching out and taking Laslow’s hand. He has to dig for it, but he curls their fingers together where they lay in the snow. Laslow’s giggles abruptly stop. 

 

“Lord Xander,” He says. The snow crunches under Xander as he pushes himself up onto his elbow. Laying in the snow and framed by it, Laslow is like his own sort of snow angel. Bits of ice cling to his hair and eyelashes and his cheeks are rosy and warm. He looks startled to see Xander lean over him like that… and perhaps even more startled when Xander leans down and catches his snow-chapped lips in a dreamy first kiss.

 

Although he’s clearly surprised—he even sucks in a tiny gasp—Laslow reacts quickly enough. He closes his eyes and leans up to kiss Xander in return, and he chases his lips when Xander pulls away. Just far enough to look down into his pretty eyes and try to get a read on how he actually felt about that situation. 

 

“Milord,” Laslow croaks. 

 

“Xander,” Xander corrects him. 

 

"X-Xander," Laslow repeats. "Xander, I.. Er, well, that is…" Xander leans back down. Laslow swallows back his words to reach for him. Very, very gently he cups Xander's cheeks in his hands and pulls him back into a kiss. Just so gently that Xander knows he's asking for permission, and it's certainly granted. 

 

There’s a small dusting of snow on his back before Xander finally thinks to move away from Laslow. When he does the poor man is flushed from laying in a snowdrift and from being kissed alike. But when Xander gets to his feet he pulls Laslow up by his hand, and Laslow doesn’t soon let go. “We should get into dry clothes,” Xander suggests. “The fire you built will be warm by now.” 

 

Laslow nods his head, silently following him towards the barn. He only hesitates to pull on his hand before they walk back inside. Xander turns to look at him, and Laslow’s brows are knitted together. “Milord… is this a dream?” 

 

Xander steps closer. He trails his knuckles down the side of Laslow’s chilled cheek. “Do you often dream of kissing me?” He watches Laslow’s cheeks stain dark, cherry red beneath his touch. He shouldn’t tease him like this, he knows. He uses his thumb and index finger to gently tilt Laslow’s face up to his own… and he waits patiently for his shy retainer to finally muster the strength to look him in the eye. “Would you like to continue to kiss me?” 

 

“I--Yes!--It’s just…” 

 

“Then I suggest you come inside before you catch your death.” He makes a point to finish the order with a gentle kiss against Laslow’s bangs. Laslow, in turn, steps forward and pulls open the door to the barn.

 

“You didn’t quite answer my question, though,” Laslow says. Xander rolls his eyes, but he reaches out and less than gently pinches a bit of Laslow’s skin between his fingers. Laslow, of course, jolts and yelps. Then he slaps his hand over the irritated skin and looks back at Xander with a disbelieving laugh. “Alright, then. Not a dream. I’ve just somehow fallen into the arms of the most dashing man in all of Nohr, is that it?” 

 

"Not quite yet," Xander says. He shrugs off his coat and sets it on the ground near the heat. "Although my arms are empty at the moment. It's uncanny." Laslow smiles at him again, and not a moment after he's removed the outer layer of damp clothes he tucks himself into Xander's arms. "You're freezing," Xander says while Laslow tucks his icy nose against his neck. "Come sit down. I'm sure we can think up some creative ways to keep you warm." 

 

Laslow has never been more willing to sit on the ground per Xander’s request than he seems to be in that moment. He’s gorgeous in the firelight, with a blanket pulled around his shoulders and while he holds his fingertips close to the iron stove to thaw them. He glances up at Xander and graces him with such a brilliant smile. It’s obvious that he’s elated. This kiss has been a long time coming, and Xander hopes there will be many more to follow. So, as an afterthought, Xander can’t help but agree with him. This feels like a beautiful, winter dream. One from which he is thankful he will never wake up. 


End file.
